


Stay

by Sinsation



Category: The Following
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinsation/pseuds/Sinsation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Following Havenport AU:</p>
<p>As bullets snapped through the glass and screams pierced the air, Roderick covers Mike from gunfire. After seeing Roderick's one act of supposed kindness, Mike brings Roderick home and tends to his wounds. While trying to extort valuable information from him, the young agent learns that the hottest of fires can spring from the coldest of ashes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

Mike loaded his gun. He swallowed, shaky breaths heaving out from between chapped lips.  
  
 _I don’t get paid enough for this shit_.  
  
He kept his eyes focused on the gap inside of the police cruiser’s trunk, squinting at the artificial light seeping in.  
  
 _Stupid freakin’ Ryan._  
  
It was a chilly night in Havenport, Maryland.  
  
Detective Ryan Hardy was sitting in the driver's seat of a ‘borrowed’ squad car with none other than Roderick Nelson crouched in the back.  
  
The smooth talking, English literature major became a sheriff in a crappy little town to appease the demands of a sociopathic serial killer.  
  
Of course, Roderick figured that he could have done worse for himself.   
  
“This is it.” Roderick said, taking off his sunglasses. He always hated the stupid things.  
  
Pulling the cruiser into the vacant driveway, Ryan killed the headlights.  
  
"If this is a trap and Joey is injured or worse-" The very thought of it made Ryan’s stomach turn, "I’ll blow a round into your skull so fast, you'll be gone before your body hits the ground."  
  
Roderick swallowed.  
  
Shit was about to hit the fan, and he _knew_ that one of them would end up dead.  
  
Some of The Followers were probably hiding out in the black forest somewhere behind the house. If anyone would have a chance of dying that day, it would be him.  
  
Roderick wanted to find Joe and cook him alive in a pot of boiling oil. He once idolized him, bowing at his feet and obeying every order with more zeal than a preacher at Sunday mass.  
  
"He’s fine." The Sheriff took a deep breath. "Believe me. I _want_ you to have your happy-ass ending."  
  
Ryan laughed sarcastically. "I highly doubt that."

"About Mike," Roderick started. If he was going to die, he might as well confess his sins to _someone_ , even though Ryan was probably as far away from sainthood as he was. "I…I like the kid."  
  
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "What kind of drugs did you take this morning?"  
  
"I’m serious, you fucking pretentious alcoholic." Not even the prospect of looming death could quell Roderick’s anger.   
  
"Do I look like a priest to you?" Ryan shot back.  
  
Roderick bit down hard on the lining of his cheek. "Listen, dumbass. I’m going to hell, so I might as well get a few things off of my list while I’m still here, alright?"  
  
Sighing, Ryan reached for the gun in his jacket. "Time’s running out, princess."  
  
"Joe wanted me to kill Mike to speed up your painfully slow character development." Roderick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I tried, but I couldn’t do it. God help me, I couldn’t _fucking_ do it."  
  
Ryan’s jaw would have hit the floor if it could. Over the years he developed a sixth sense that he liked to call _The Bullshit Detector_. While working through cases ranging in topic from rape to counterfeit goods, he learned how to detect lies hidden by even the most sociopathic criminal.  
  
Roderick was telling the truth, and he was sure of it.  
  
"I had a crowbar in my hand, ready to swing. I was gonna do it. I was going to swing the fuckin’ thing and-" Roderick cleared his throat, "cave his skull in. Maybe it was the way he held on. He kept saying he didn’t know where Claire was, and that was obviously a crock of crap."  
  
"Seriously. You want to hurry this up?"  
  
“I saw something in him that day. Something beyond the literary propaganda Joe nailed into our heads.” Roderick gripped the door handle, white knuckles threatening to jump out of his skin. “He believed that I would kill him if he didn’t give us her location. You know what? He was okay with that. The stupid son of a bitch was going to go down fighting to save the life of a woman he barely knows.”  
  
“He’s a good agent and has always been. So can we just-”  
  
“Stow the good cop bad cop shit for a minute.” Roderick rubbed his temples, hands shaking. “I’m screwed. Following Joe was a mistake that I wish I could take back.”  
  
“Why did you follow him in the first damn place?” Ryan grew impatient.   
  
“Power is a smooth mistress, Ryan.” Roderick felt his insides lurch at the thought of his own demise.  
  
He would die alone, soaking in a pool of his excreted bodily fluids; slowly putrefying as his entrails would seep out of numerous bullet holes.  
  
A lump of bile rose in his throat. For a moment, he thought he was going to dry heave.  
  
“Let’s get this over with.”  Roderick didn’t see a point in holding his tears back.  
  
Mike shifted in the trunk, trying to register the information he was hearing.  
  
 _The crazy bastard let me live._  
  
Ryan exited the car first, followed by Roderick.  
  
They made their way over to the house. Ryan raised his gun as Roderick took a key out of his pocket and opened the door with shaking hands.   
  
The air was thick and cool, chilling their lungs between nervous breaths.   
  
"First closet to the left." Roderick gestured, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.  
  
Ryan hurried towards the living room, crouching low. He quickly surveyed the area, noticing no signs of apparent danger.   
  
He leaped over to the closet, swinging the door open. Joey was crouched in the corner, arms hugging his knees. He immediately looked up, fear reflected in his brown eyes.  
  
"Shh, Joey. You remember me, right? I'm Ryan, your mom's friend." Ryan tucked the gun into his belt and reached out to Joey, who simply nodded.  
  
"Detective Ryan?"  
  
"That's right." He forced a smile.  
  
"You're the good guy."  
  
"I guess I am."  
  
He helped Joey up.   
  
Without a hint of warning, a loud clap rang through the darkness, shattering the windows with ear-splitting force.  
  
"Go. Run!" Ryan pushed Joey towards the stairs. He took off like a lightning bolt.  
  
Ryan took cover behind a leather sofa, knowing that he wouldn't stand a chance if a single bullet pierced through the thin material.  
  
"Shit!" A spray of gunfire erupted from behind the front door. Roderick dove into the living room, hand automatically stuffing itself under one of the couch cushions.  
  
Ryan took the opportunity to bolt for the stairs.  
  
Pulling out a semi-automatic machine gun, Roderick pointed it towards the window and began firing, round after round of ammunition piercing the night as empty shell casings burned holes into the carpet.  
  
"Go to hell, you dumbass motherfuckers!" He stood up, reaching for another ammunition clip hidden behind a pillow.   
  
"Drop the fucking gun!" Mike Weston's voice jolted him out of his trance.  
  
Roderick turned his attention towards a very pissed off agent, pointing a handgun at him from the opposite side of the living room.  
  
"Mike, you don't understand, I-"  
  
"I said _drop the fucking gun._ " His voice seethed with hate. Stepping closer to Roderick, he was ready to fire.  
  
A slight movement outside caught Roderick's attention.  
  
"Son of a bitch!" He screamed, lowering his gun. "Get down, Mike!"  
  
The world around them seemed to drip by in slow motion.  
  
Roderick dove towards the agent, tackling him to the floor.  
  
Pushing Roderick off of him, Mike returned fire. A human shape collapsed through what was left of the wide window, falling motionless onto the remaining spikes of razor sharp glass.  
  
After a few seconds of silence, Mike got up and helped Roderick to his feet.  
  
Roderick bent down to grab his weapon. Mike pointed his handgun at his head.  
  
"Try that. I dare you." Confusion laced Mike's mind.  
  
"I just saved your fucking life!" Roderick gaped, tightening his right hand. It was numb.  
  
Mike noticed a trail of blood running down Roderick's jacket sleeve. "I don't owe you shit."  
  
"Aw, fuck." A strange deadened sensation spread down Roderick's right arm. "Joey and Ryan are upstairs."  
  
Mike felt his throat run dry. "How do I know you're not lying?"   
  
"He isn't." Ryan walked carefully down the steps, with Joey's arms wrapped tight around his neck and face buried in his shirt collar. He held him tightly, as if the very air could sweep him away.  
  
"You need to get Roderick out of here." The frown on Ryan's face was becoming permanent.   
  
"You're not serious."  
  
"Look. As much as I want to kill the idiot, you and I both know why we need him alive."  
  
 _He has info on Joe._  
  
Running a hand through his hair, Mike exhaled. "So help me god, if you try anything-"  
  
"I'm going to eat my own goddamn gun, you imbecilic troglodyte. So you either kill me now, or I'll put a bullet into my brain. I'm done with Joe's shit, I'm done with the FBI's shit, and I'm _sure as fuck_ done with my _own_ goddamn shit!" Roderick's eyes watered. He felt as if his body was caving in under the weight of his regrets.  
  
"I can't believe I'm doing this." Holstering his gun, Mike grabbed Roderick's injured arm.   
  
"There's a van parked out back." Ryan made his way to the front door. "You didn't call for backup, did you?"  
  
"Debra and Donovan are on their way." Mike doubted that Joey would tell Claire about the situation. The poor kid was probably traumatized.  
  
"I'll distract them. You've got half an hour, tops." With a strangely heroic air floating about him, Ryan left Mike and Roderick to fend for themselves in the proverbial jungle of Havenport.  
  
"Let's go." Tugging Roderick along, Mike tread quietly down a side hallway and into the first floor kitchen. They exited through a sliding door at the back.  
  
A large black escalade was parked at the edge of the garden facing a worn dirt path leading into a forest populated with tall, thick pine trees.  
  
Mike motioned for Roderick to take a spot in the passenger's seat.  
  
Hauling himself in through the driver's side door, Mike turned the key that was already in the ignition.  
  
Cautiously, Roderick slipped into the passenger seat. He winced as he shut the door.  
  
Killing the headlights, he drove slowly into the forest.  
  
 _I can't believe I'm doing this._  
  
Mike's least favorite mantra was repeating itself in his mind.  
  
His jaw still hadn't healed from his fight with Charlie. Every part of his body was the same kind of painful. It hurt to eat. Sleeping was mostly out of the question, and every fibre of his being wanted to punch Roderick's face into a bloody pulp.  
  
 _...He saved my life._  
  
"Damnit." Mike mumbled. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."  
  
"I could say the same to you." With glazed over eyes, Roderick stared at the seemingly tar-covered world passing by the window. Long shadows slithered across the forest floor, writhing and pulsing as if they had a life of their own.  
  
He cradled his injured arm. His entire sleeve was soaked through, blood dripping onto the side of the door.   
  
"Where do you plan on taking me?" Not that he cared in the slightest.  
  
Mike steered the car over a log. "The only place the FBI would never think to look."

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of (most likely) 4.


End file.
